Scared

During one of those practices, Elena looked up from her bio book (the coaches mainly needed her help in the play room, she usually spent most of practice studying) and noticed Jane staring up at the bleachers during a face-off. She frowned. It wasn't like Jane to be distracted. She lived and breathed hockey.

So Elena looked over he shoulder. There was one other person high up in the bleachers that day, a man that looked to be in his middle forties with a beer gut and shaggy hair pushed down under an old and ragged NASCAR cap. He glanced down at Elena with a look of disdain bordering on outright hatred and stood up and walked down the bleachers. She turned away and tried not to catch his gaze again as he walked into the tunnel for the locker room.

When Coach Waynhal called for a break from the scrimmage, Jane slipped off her skates and walked out to the tunnel. The rest of the team seemed to shy away from her and from the tunnel in general as they convened their huddle on the opposite side of the rink. Elena bit her lip for a moment of indecision before folding her bio book closed and stalking after Jane. She stopped just at the mouth of the tunnel when she heard the shouting voices.

"...I don't care!" Jane shouted.

"She's your mother, god damn it!"

"And you're not my dad, so you can't boss me around. You had my answer on the phone. I'm not going back."

"And why not? What have you got going on here that's so important? Your dyke hockey team? Your black roommate--"

"Shut up."

"--Was that her in the stands, watching you practice?" The man guffawed cruelly. "I always told Mary that she shouldn't have let you come here. These lib-tards have turned you into a fucking nigger-lover."

"Fuck you," Jane screeched. "Get the hell out or I'll call security. I don't ever want to see you again."

Elena started scrambling away as she realized that Jane was marching back out of the tunnel. Jane suited back up and skated with such fury and intensity that even players on her side of the scrimmage started to clear out of her way. She moved up and down the ice like a bat out of hell and made three wild slap shots at the goal before scoring on a fourth attempt. When her side was turned back on defense, she zipped after the puck, delivering a brutal body check that clipped Jenna Hoenig against the boards in the process.

Coach Waynhal blew her whistle and sent Jane home early. Jane thundered out of the rink and into the locker room. Elena grabbed her bio book and followed at a distance, stopping after she entered the locker room and heard the sounds of Jane's thrashing echoing. When she peeked around the corner, Jane had her locker door open and had already stripped off most of her gear and clothes.

Elena's gaze fixed upon the diagonal scrape scar that traced from the small of her back to the top of her ass. It was a familiar sight, one Elena had seen every morning when Jane got up for a run. She couldn't say why her eyes were always so drawn to it, but whenever it was visible, she just had to stare. She continued watching with rapt interest until Jane stripped off the rest of her clothing.

Then Elena remembered herself and ducked back around the corner. Even looking is a sin. She took a moment to clear her head then walked in with a heavy step to announce her presence.

"Hey," Elena said. Jane had just thrown on a shirt and looked thoroughly pissed--though her expression softened a bit when she saw who was talking to her. "What happened back there?"

Jane folded her arms over her chest and looked away. "I just want to go home."

"Will you talk to me there, at least?"

Jane crumpled into her bed when they got back to the room, her face was still red and caked with sweat. Elena took a Gatorade out of the mini-fridge and tossed it to Jane.

"So," she began, "Who was that?"

"Did you hear us?" Jane blanched as she asked. "I--My step-dad...god, he's such an asshole. I'm sorry--"

Elena smiled. "Don't be. Like you said, he's an asshole. That's not your fault."

The color returned to her face as she took a few swigs of Gatorade. "Elle, are you close with your family?"

Elena sat down on her bed and leaned back against the wall while facing Jane. "In what sense?"

"Your parents. Are you close to them? Are they still around, waiting for you back in LA?"

Elena nodded. "Well, my mom is, at least, though she's kinda useless. She's always been the type of person that could never really help herself."

"How so?"

"She can't hold a job long enough to get a better one, constantly relying on welfare or her latest boyfriend to fill in the gaps." she said with a sigh. One thing truly wonderful about this whole college thing was that it gave her very little time to think about her parents and their hopeless situations.

Jane's expression went stony. "Your mom lived on welfare?"

"Still does. Probably always will."

"What about your dad?"

Elena shrugged. "He works for some bank overseas. I see him on Christmas. Sometimes on my birthday. He sends money, a couple letters telling me how to live--as though he's been around enough to really give a fuck. Why do you ask?"

She wrapped herself with her arms, as though she were trying to hug and stabilize herself against something. The trouble in her eyes multiplied when she looked away.

"Jane?"

Jane rubbed her forehead. "I was taught to hate you when I was a kid."

"Me?"

"You're black. My mom wouldn't even let me go to school because of the black kids there. I was home-schooled. My brothers and sisters were, too."

Elena didn't know how to react to this, so she just leaned back and took it all in.

"'Blacks are ruining America'--that's what she used to say, all the time. I believed her." Her stony expression didn't waver but her eyes were filling with water. "I believed every word of it until I came here. I--"

Then the tears started to flow and Jane cupped her hands around her nose and mouth. The noises that escaped her were too fast to be sorrow, too deliberate to be confusion. It was rage and disgust and frustration and shame. And Elena couldn't just watch, so she moved to sit next to her roommate and comfort her.

Jane's voice turned ragged after five minutes of this. She cleared her throat and looked at Elena, who had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My mom has leukemia."

* * * * *

Elena and Jane were amongst the hundred or so people kicked out of Golem after the 2 AM closing time. The crowd tonight consisted mostly of hockey players, hockey fans and all their significants. The occasion? ALU's first game and first win of the season. Jane's usual antics were energized by the fact that she had scored the winning goal.

Elena had some parting words with the boy that had danced with her for the better part of two hours then chatted with Carla and her new boyfriend Ross, after they found them in the crowd. She was pleased to find out Carla was, in fact, a huge hockey fan.

Jane had her head nodded low and was still moving her body to the beat of the last song. Carla and Ross both laughed at Jane's antics (as they had been for most of the night) and Elena took it as her cue to escort the star player home. That proved to be difficult, as Jane had trouble putting one foot in front of the other. After three near-catastrophic stumbles, Elena took it upon herself to hold Jane by the arm and help her along.

"Thanks, Elle." Jane hiccuped several times as they cleared the crowd and half-walked, half-staggered back towards the dorms. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Fall down drunk, like you probably did before I came along."

She laughed. "Why didn't you ask that guy for his number?"

"Who?"

"He danced with you for forever. Ray? Was that his name?"

"Yeah." Elena frowned.

"You should have asked him." Jane was walking funny, tilting from one side to another, occasionally colliding into Elena and pushing her slightly offsides on the concrete sidewalk. "He was so into you."

She felt her face run hot. "Yeah. Maybe--"

"Maybe?" Jane was slurring her words hard. "No, no, he was so far past 'maybe' it might not have been in his dictionary anymore. He wanted to take you somewhere." She hiccuped and her tone started to rise with each syllable. "He wanted to do the no-pants dance with you. He wanted to--"

"Shh!!!" Elena hissed, pressing two fingers over Jane's mouth as the last of her words echoed between the gym and the pool building. "God, are you always so loud?"

"You should hear me when I fuck."

Elena giggled nervously.

"God, I love your hair." Jane leaned close and ran her hands over it.

Elena smiled. "I think we've had this conversation before."

"It's just so..." Jane was fixated for a while, poking at it, patting it, stroking it. "So much volume. My hair is flat and so boring. You know?"

Elena rolled her eyes.

Jane snorted as they walked into building sixteen. "Back to what I was asking originally, why didn't you ask him?"

Elena fidgeted as Jane strode past her and led the way up the stairs. "I don't know. I guess I thought he would have asked, if he was interested."

Jane laughed. "And just what love rulebook did you read that in?" She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder how it is that I got home-schooled my whole life and you grew up in LA."

Elena bit her lip as Jane pushed in the door to their room. "So you really think--"

Jane gave an exasperated sigh and yanked her into the room. The door swung shut as she stood her in front of the mirror. "You're beautiful," she whispered huskily as she squeezed both of Elena's shoulders.

Elena looked down and tried to shy away. "I'm fat--"

"What?" Jane scoffed. "You're...ten, maybe fifteen pounds over?" Her hand ran down Elena's side, tamping down on her amorphous ALU sweater to define the curves of her love handles. "Hardly fat. In fact, a lot of people think it's sexy. I think it's sexy."

Elena looked down again and flushed. "Thanks, but--"

"Elle, come on, look at yourself. You're gorgeous."

Elena looked up, but it wasn't herself she noticed. Jane stood behind her, a full head taller, so tall that even the nebulous tangle of Elena's hair couldn't obscure the look on her face. All her skin turned to goosebumps as she suddenly became hyper-aware of things that had barely mattered minutes ago: the position of Jane's hand on her side, how tightly Jane was holding her shoulder, how Jane's face was so close to her that she appeared to be breathing in the smell of her hair...

"Jane," she said, biting her lip. She didn't know when she lost track of her breaths. They were coming out in rushed, shallow bursts.

Jane's hand edged over the hem of Elena's sweater and grasped her hip through her jeans with a vigor that made her squirm. She brushed aside some of Elena's hair and edged close enough to kiss her behind the ear. "Yes?"

"Stop," she breathed.

Jane didn't. Elena tried to brush her off. Jane held on tight. She shook and turned and managed to free herself for a moment before Jane grabbed her wrists and pulled her back until they were face-to-face with their bodies pressed tightly together. Then Jane kissed her, full on the lips.

It was a sweet, soft kiss, one that ended before Elena even had an opportunity to reciprocate. By the time it was done, Jane released her arms (which had lost the will to resist, anyway) and started caressing her back. She traced the outlines of her shoulder blades before gliding down to find the hem of her sweater and flipping it up over her head.

That gave Elena a moment without contact, enough time to back away until she hit the mirror. Her hair fell about in a genuine mess; several tendrils swayed before her face as she shook her head. "No," Elena said in her weakest voice as Jane tossed the sweater aside and took her hand again.

Jane pulled her back in and kissed her again. This time, Elena returned it, undulating her lips with the rhythm that Jane set, gasping and clenching when she felt Jane's tongue dart out to tease hers. When she ended the kiss on the lips, Jane started to plant new ones down her jaw and the side of her neck. Elena cried out with a groan that was part fear, part desire and entirely excitement as Jane's hands roamed her back and sides, kneading through her camisole and ruffling the garment enough to expose bare flesh.

"Don't," Elena cried as Jane grasped the hem of her camisole. She was spectacularly out of breath by now and new sweat was forming and beading down from the fringes of her hairline.

"Why?" Jane looked as though what they'd just done was the most natural thing in the world.

Elena shook her head as she felt the sum of her experience and conscience bear down on her. "I can't," she said. All that they told her, all that she could remember had made things abundantly clear: this was wrong.

"I've seen the way you look at me--"

Elena blinked. "You strut around practically naked all the time. I can't help but look!"

Jane cupped her breasts with her hands. Elena was awed. When did she take off her jacket? "I only kept strutting because you kept looking." Now she was unbuckling her belt. Then she was unbuttoning her pants. After that, she flipped her shirt and sports bra off with one swift motion. Elena blanched when she realized that she hadn't looked away for one moment of it.

Please, Elena mouthed. She couldn't pull her gaze from Jane's small, perky breasts.

Jane kept advancing, a look of inexorable lust on her face. "Are you scared?"

Elena didn't get a chance to affirm or deny. Jane captured her lips with a deep sensual kiss the sent shudders through her body. Strong hands gently held the sides of her head and fingers raked through her hair. She found herself voluntarily craning her head to give Jane better access and she groaned when Jane's hard nipples brushed the ridge of her collar bone. Her hands roamed Jane's back, and she found that her skin, for all its old scars and fresh hockey bruises, was much softer and more tender than she had imagined.

Jane went for the hem of her camisole again and lifted it up to get access to her belt line. No, NO! her mind screamed as Jane's fingers unclasped her belt and undid the fastenings of her jeans. But her body quivered and her legs obediently stepped out of the jeans, deserting them in a puddle by the mirror.

Elena groaned as Jane cupped her breasts and bit her lip when Jane took her left nipple in her mouth and teased it with her tongue. She opened her eyes for a moment and glanced their debauchery in the mirror. It was enough to make her conscience roil. What are you doing? How can you allow this?

So she closed her eyes again and tried to ignore the feeling of wrong that came from her mind and instead embrace what her body was telling her.

Don't, her fear told her when Jane started to lead her away from the mirror, towards the bed and towards the inevitable. You're not like her. You'll never be like her. Look again--the two of you could not be more different.

But her flesh betrayed. She followed Jane on legs as pliant as clay. Jane suddenly stopped when they were in front of the bed and kissed her hungrily. The hand that had been kneading her breasts and roaming her body moved down to her panties and Elena's chaste gasps and stifled groans became grunts of unmistakable pleasure.

You're making a mistake. But the sloshing sounds her pussy was making told her something entirely different. So she put her hands on Jane's sides and hooked her thumbs through Jane's panties.

"Yeah?" Jane asked mischievously between smooches. Her breath still smelled of forty proof vodka and Bacardi 151. In the moment, Elena couldn't have invented a sexier smell.

"Yes." Elena said breathlessly.

Then Jane toppled her onto the bed and all her fears disappeared.

. . .

When she woke early the next morning, Elena was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. She sat up and pressed down on her forehead with the heel of her hand, as though that could knead out the hangover headache beginning to form in the front of her skull. That's when all the details of last night began to come back to her.

She was on Jane's side of the room, in Jane's bed, with Jane next to her, face-down and asleep. She was naked. Under the covers, she was still wet and her pussy was sore--no, not sore, tender. Tender and raw from use, but in a sweet, pleasant way. It all added up to a moment of blind panic when she reconstructed all that had happened last night.

"Good morning," Jane said with a smug smile as she rolled over.

Elena looked over her shoulder at her. "I--Hey." What did you do?!

Jane planted a kiss on the left side of her lower back and kneaded the other with her right hand. "Did you sleep well?"

"I..." She couldn't talk. She couldn't respond to Jane's hands sweeping over her body and touching her in all those wonderful, familiar ways. She didn't feel like doing anything except crying.

"Elle?" Jane's voice rose from sleepy to panicked in one syllable. "Elena? Elena, what's wrong?"

She didn't resist Jane's attempts to comfort and hug her as she wept uncontrollably for ten minutes.

"They said," Elena finally said, though her voice was still wavering with anguish. "They said it would be terrible."

"They?" Jane was bewildered. "Who, Elena? Who said what?"

She had calmed significantly by the time she spoke again. She held Jane's hand tightly. "There's nothing terrible about it."

* * * * *

That day was Saturday. After settling down, Elena got into her normal routine of eating, studying and reading. Later on in the evening, she and Jane went out to some lame party that Carla's boyfriend's frat was throwing.

When they got back, it happened again, except this time, both of them were sober and Elena had no qualms with enjoying every minute of it. She groaned when Jane fingered her, swooned when Jane used her tongue and mouth and had a massive orgasm when Jane did both simultaneously. There was an interim of fickle, nervous moments before she could pleasure Jane in return. She soon found the process of reciprocating not nearly as difficult as she had imagined.

After a week and a half of passionate, wild, every-other-night sex, they pushed their beds together to create some semblance of a queen-size mattress.

Carla's camping trip on Veteran's day weekend gave them the first good opportunity to come out with their relationship. Carla and a couple of Elena's other friends were taken aback at first but were quick to accept. Jane's teammates were hardly surprised.

Life continued on, a frenzied mix of class, hockey games and romance. It wasn't until Thanksgiving was imminently upon them that Elena took the time to think on some of the deeper implications of their relationship. She hadn't heard from her father yet and her mother had sent her a card with her love and her best wishes, but no return ticket for any kind of holiday. That's when the idea popped into her mind. She confronted Jane with it after a stunning victory over University of Minnesota.

"No." Jane's voice couldn't have been more emphatic, but Elena still had ways of finding wiggle room.

"She's dying, Jane. She deserves a chance--"

Jane snorted. "Yeah and I'm sure she's still a cunt. I don't want to see her."

"I'll go with you."

She blinked. "Are you insane? My family will flip a shit if I show up with you."

Elena grinned. "And isn't that something you'd like to see?"

Jane smiled for a moment, then shook her head again. "Sorry, Elle, I just don't want to go--"

"Are you scared?"

Her expression hardened with displeasure and she replied, "Hockey players aren't scared of shit."

They were on a bus to northern Minnesota a couple of days later.